With all my heart
by Barbayat
Summary: My version of how Verona meet Count Vladislaus Dragulia and ended up being his bride (the lucky girl!). The time period is 1512, the location is Budapest, but might change later ...
1. Approach

Title: With all my heart Author: Barbayat Email: barbayatjamballa.de Pairing: Verona/Dracula Rating: R (might become NC-17 later)  
Summary: My version of how Dracula met Verona and choose to take his first bride Disclaimer: The characters of Dracula and Van Helsing do belong to Universal, Sommers and who ever paid for their rights, this is just for fun Archive: none so far Author's Notes: Was part of my Dark Matters Story, but Verona kind of demanded that I took more effort with her past and thus I excluded the Interludes from Dark Matters and made it a stand-alone story. That way it serves as a separate background-story for Dark Matters!

1. Approach

Count Vladislaus Dragulia had been famous for his magnificent festivities back in the first quarter of 16th century. However, the one season most worth remembering had taken place in the summer of 1512, fifty years after he had made his deal with the devil.

Dracula gave these balls not so much for the pleasure of the event itself, but for the opportunity to find someone new to toy with. By that time it had been his favourite game to get hold of a young innocent girl, who was completely absorbed by the Christian ideals of purity. Sooner or later they all fell for him and then, it was not long before he yearned for a new toy.

He had always thought women to be dull and weak, useful only in bed or for those other things he had no need for as a vampire. Then this young girl had arrived with her rich, much older husband during the autumn season. There had been something about the way she walked, an air that was demanding, powerful. He decided to observe the beautiful black-haired girl for some time. Nearly the whole ball she had sat with her husband at their table, turning down every single man who had asked her for a dance.

Finally he took his turn and approached her. Dracula sensed that she was attracted, but still meant to say 'no'. However, as he held out his hand to her, no word or gesture of refusal came from her. The girl's eyes sparkled with fury as she realised that he was the reason for it. He forced her hand into his and pulled her closer. Sweeping her off to the dance floor, he let go off her mind. The fury her face showed now produced a sardonic smile on his.

"What in the name of all Saints...," she began. Keeping her voice low, it still carried a lot of anger.

"…did I do to you?" Vladislaus continued.

Verona shook her head, trying to bolster herself. She was proud for a girl her age and had taken her vow very seriously. Even after months she still held it dear, although she was neither happy nor in love with her husband. Her belief in God was strong; but she was not as narrow-minded as others were.

"I suggest you lead me back to my husband," she said defensively.

Vladislaus enjoyed that she became nervous and had every intention to make her even more so. Her body was already reacting to his touches, the hand on her back wandered deeper to her waistline. He pulled her inappropriately close. Her hips were now pressed against his and he felt that she was blushing.

"That's not what you want," he replied suggestively.

"You got the wrong wife," Verona spat back.

"You got the wrong husband."

The young woman smiled triumphantly thinking she had finally come up with an argument that would make her host realise that she was not interested.

"That's what you like to think," she told Dracula as he swept her away even farther. He sniggered and now slightly worried, she added: "and I couldn't be happier."

"Now that's what you like to think!" he teased her.

"I suppose you think that you can make me even happier", she said, scornfully. "Thanks, but I doubt that very much." Verona had wanted to say so much more, but pressed her lips together. It was too private and inadequate. Things that had no place in the Count's world. Invading her thoughts, he saw the whole truth behind her anger.

How that undeserving husband touched her at night, only attending to his own needs. He smiled sensing her aggravation whenever he left her unsatisfied and returned to his own chamber leaving her alone in the dark. That she had been told so often by her mother that there was nothing more in store and that the only pleasure she would ever get out of a man would be children of her own. Part of her believed it, while another part knew that there was more and that she would not find it with her husband.

'Quite an amusing conflict for someone who wants to be faithful', Dracula thought, still not letting her go. Back then, he had thought that she might make an interesting plaything for the next weeks, but the reminder of the evening had proved him wrong.

"'Making you happy' is such an inadequate term for what I have in mind", he whispered in her ear.

Their bodies so close, Vladislaus felt her warmth, her pounding heart sending her blood through the tiniest capillary. There was much more to be done before she would submit to her lust. So he decided to relocate the conversation to a place were he would be undisturbed. In the blink of an eye he had warped the two of them up to his study.

Verona's heart beat feverishly as she found herself alone with the Count. The few witnesses at the ball could dismiss the disappearing couple as the result of too much wine and dancing. Not the girl though, as she had got her first insight on her host. Dracula allowed her to back off, which she did with fast paces until the wall stopped her.

"You are in league with the devil", she said with a panic-ridden voice.

Dracula knew the stories and it was all the more amusing that the high-society of Budapest never missed a ball. In fact it was considered an honour to be invited. "You don't know the half of it", he told her, smugly.

One step towards her and she fled towards the door. Naturally she bumped into him and he let her escape once more. Verona used the other door without realising that he could have stopped her easily. Now she found herself within his bedchamber. The Count enjoyed how her body came to a sudden halt as she noticed the huge four-poster. Breathing heavily she turned as he walked in and closed the door.

A gasp of terror escaped her as he locked it. It was as if she meant to say something, but decided against it. He once more ventured into her most private thoughts. Indeed, she was not afraid of rape, she was more concerned with what he was. The girl was clever enough to know that he had the influence to get away with whatever he planned to do to her. There was also a great deal of confusion about whom she should be pleading to - God or him.

Dracula was fascinated for it seldom happened that someone was not instantly praying or crying out for help. He had been in a playful mood, but that had changed. Appearing behind her back, he embraced her, his hands touching her modestly covered breasts. Instinctively she tried to pull away, but of course it was nothing more than a feeble attempt. He kissed her neck, ignoring the fact that she fought him.

Passionately he nibbled at her ear and caressed her soft flesh in the most tender way imaginable. His hands were working on her much more ferociously now. The layers of her dress were so thick that he was forced to do so. Her corsage pained her and unwillingly, a long moan escaped her. Small hands burning with warmth tried to push his cold hands away. After her third moan, which sounded much more lustful, he stopped the violent massage of her breasts.

While she sighed with relief, his lips sucked on a part of her skin so intensely that her hands came up as if they were actually able to stop him. With a swift move he grabbed her wrists, raised them over her head and turned her around. Her mind was tossed into pure chaos now. While she stared at him, his fingers grabbed the backside of her dress. He found his way inside the binding and tore it off. The upper part of her dress along with the corsage fell down and left her bosom covered with nothing more than a thin shirt.

Verona was now clutching her arms, but showed no further signs of resistance as he kissed her face and touched her soft curves. She tried not to give in, put nonetheless he continued to work on her. He had had his way with women for more than half a century, so naturally he knew all those gentle touches that drove them to the edge of sanity, but he also was able to set fire to their lust with firm demanding strokes.

Naturally he tried to determine what variant worked best on his new toy, only to discover that she was responding equally strongly to both of them. He straddled her on the bed, pulling off her shirt. Her burning heat and the drum of her heart beat sent even sweeter sensations through his cold veins than feeling her soft skin with his hands and lips. Verona was now at a point were she was no longer able to suppress her moans.

No will on earth was able to outweigh the animal inside lusting for all the forbidden pleasures. Did God really think that he would win by offering this one sided spiritual love-concept while forbidding his subjects to satisfy all their other cravings? Would He cast this girl out if he killed her now? She had become quite noisy as she announced her delight. According to his old Bishop, he already had damned her for all eternity.

Of course right now he had no intention to kill her, he enjoyed seeing her body tremble far too much. For minutes, he had firmly brushed her entire body from waist to head. Now that he was caressing her breast with his fingertips he saw that her hands grabbed the skirt and moved up and down fiercely. She was ready to be taken, wet, burning and lusting with all her senses for him to continue what his gestures had promised.

Naturally this was the point for him to stop. He rose from her and walked slowly towards the door. Verona lay there panting heavily. Faintly she had opened her eyes and looked around her. Dracula knew that she could not believe that he had left her. Long before she was able to speak, her mind screamed for him to return. She wanted to ask why he was going or how long, but also considered demanding and begging him to continue.

In the end, only a silent desperate "Please …" came over her still trembling lips. Vladislaus opened the door and, turning for a last gaze he presented her a triumphant, nasty smile. The first game was his and his next would be to torment her, by denying her the only thing that was on her mind right now. It was amazing how easy her devotion and faithfulness had been washed away; but then, she had been terribly neglected.

Dracula returned for the reminder of the ball to dance with a few other young women. After all he was the host and it would have given a really bad impression if he left so early without notice. It did not surprise him that Verona did not return. Her husband left early; but not to look for his wife. Vladislaus's servants told him he went straight to his guest rooms, in the west wing.

The girl had already left his chambers, sneaking through the dark corridors with the rest of her gown pressed against her chest, for her guest rooms, who was located next door to her husbands. He had been told she had had a very disappointed look on her face. 


	2. Consequences

2. Consequences

The first time the Count met her again was during the garden party two afternoons later. He sat a bit aloft on the terrace in the shadows. Although at that time he had healed faster than the sun could burn him, he had not felt the need to prove it. The majority of his guests went into the gardens after the refreshments had been served. They played hide and seek or walked through the gardens while the rest of town had been suffering, he had loved the aristocrats for their selfish behaviour.

He had arranged for enough attractions and finally, every one left their seats, except her and him, just as he had anticipated. Her husband had had this stupid look on his face as she had told him to go without her. She kept staring at him for half an hour. Vladislaus on the other hand preferred to observe her with his mind and pretended to watch the bunch of noblemen and -women playing in the distance.

The vampire had sensed her growing anger. Suddenly she rose from her table, turning in his direction. Much to Dracula's surprise, for he had not entered her mind that deeply, she walked away from the terrace. Verona had indeed been a proud woman. Since this was a game of power, he could not possibly have followed her then. He had been angry, but back then, he had always lost his temper too fast.

Smiling, he kept sitting there for the rest of the afternoon. After all, he still had the upper hand. The vampire had destroyed her peace of mind by showing her there was much more in store for her than she could ever get from her husband. He then decided to hold another ball, which would give him the opportunity to remind her of his touches.

The ball took place a week later. To distract himself he slayed knights from the Holy Order. Now and then he had to show them that they were not welcome in his domain. Vladislaus arrived for the ball just in time to dress appropriately. He meant to dance with nearly every other girl, before he would choose her once more.

His eyes searched the table where she and her husband were supposed to sit. Only to find that the old geek sat there alone. The Count could not believe that she dared to miss this event, and he was right: She was dancing with another man. In fact she had intended to dance with all the other men available in the room. He saw very clearly that she had every intention to get what she had been missing.

Vladislaus felt a spur of anger. How could she dare to look for other men, when he was the one to show her the true meaning of desire? But as soon as it had come, his rage was gone. Grabbing her away from a young man who had yet to learn a lot about the art of dancing, Dracula was intrigued by the different turn this game had taken.

He sensed immediately the anger that took hold of her, but there also was a great deal of passion that had begun to rise the moment he had touched her warm hands. Part of her had wanted to provoke him by dancing with other men despite her fear about his reaction. Another had truly wanted to break free from this game for Verona had gathered a secret hate for being used. No doubt that this was a subconscious reaction to the way her husband had treated her.

Dracula found nothing more intriguing than that she had figured out so fast that he was teasing her. Verona seemed to know exactly what he intended. She was only a little bit upset about his disturbing of her peace of mind. What a beautiful mind hers was - so inquiring and rekindled by his touches. Verona's newly awakened hunger to discover what she had closed her eyes to before had pleased the Count tremendously and he meant to show her everything and more, than she had ever wanted to see.

He teased her so badly during that dance that eventually she tore free and ran out of the ball room. Her lazy husband was too occupied with another older gentleman who was equally unwilling to dance to notice that his wife fled in great distress. The other guests who noticed tried to overlook that the Count followed her with easy steps.

Verona had not gone far. She stood on the balustrade of the staircase that connected all floors in the main building. The girl stared down in the darkness with tears in her eyes. She did not even look up as he approached her. His cold hands meant to touch her shoulders, but before he was able to she said calmly: "So tell me, where is this game leading?"

"Wherever you are willing to take it", he told her and twisted her so she was facing him.

The girl took a deep breath.

"Since when I am in lead?"

He sensed that she did not believe him. Vladislaus himself could hardly believe that he wanted her to make the right moves, and he could not tell what those were, for he had not planned them himself.

"That's for you to figure out", he whispered in her ear.

Suddenly her hand touched his cheek and her lips found his. He enjoyed her efforts and the sweet sound of her heart beating with anxiety as she dared more than she had ever imagined. And yet he remained unmoved. Still teasing, he told her: "I am not that easy."

Every little word tore her soul more apart and had he not trapped her with his arms between him and the balustrade, she would have fled. Desperate, she beat his chest with her fists. He let her have a few hits before he grabbed her wrists.

"What I am supposed to do?" She was now crying so badly that her tears covered her cheeks.

"Surprise me - show me that you are willing to leave everything behind for me", he told her. Holding her wrist he let both his thumbs ran over her wet skin before bringing them together behind her back. Their bodies were so close that her heartbeat made his hunger come to the surface. His mouth closed in on hers and just inches before her, he disappeared into thin air.

The Count was satisfied about the game turning out so well. While Verona was crying her eyes out that night, he spent magnificent hours at the ball, wondering what Verona was going to do. Normally he made girls do these things after he had slept with them, but in this case he had had the distinct feeling that it could work out better this way.

Dracula never had believed how far she would go and Verona had not only surprised him then, she had made him admire her. Not even his wildest imaginations would the Count have guessed what she would do for the vague hope that he might keep his unspoken promise.

Verona had retired early to her chambers but she was not tired. It was actually the opposite. The young woman felt like screaming at the top of her lungs and trashing the furniture. For now she just paced the room with her nails pressing into the palm of her hand and her knuckles being as white as the bed-sheet. One week and the ball season was over, she and her husband would return home and their host was not even present until the last day.

Even before urgent business had called the Count away, he had taken a great effort to avoid her ever since their last conversation. She hated him with a passion. If there was something she could do, it escaped her and that was very unlikely, since she did nothing except thinking about him. During the social activities, she observed him in secret and her heart was beating faster. He knew that and Verona knew that he did. Her stupid husband was of course completely unaware.

He spend most of his time with the other men of his age group gambling. Lately she even learnt that their host had invited him to a game of chess. Still she was glad that this spared her from doing her duty as a wife. She could not bear her husband touching her again. Those old ghastly hands shoving her nightgown up, violating while making those ugly untimely groans. Verona cried just thinking about it again.

How bitterly her tears had fallen in that first night when he had torn her apart and all that blood had stained her bed. But she had not hated her husband then. From everything her mother had thought her it was not possible to even think about something being done wrong by the man who took her into his house. He was much more gentle to her in ways of talking than her father and gave her so much freedom and money she could spend on her behalf.

She honestly had loved him then. Although she was not looking forward to those nights, when he visited her, but she bore everything with the sturdiness of a woman who did not knew any different. Hate and had been hers and had always been cast aside in the morning and had came back in the nights when she had been unable to fall asleep. How easily everything had changed in so few moments.

Instead of questioning herself whether she was still a good wife or dressed carefully enough to honour her husband's name - who might have not been of the highest birth, but still blessed with noble blood, just like her mother - she spent her time alone thinking about what she might be wearing to please her diabolical host. No matter how much more she hated him or how often she cursed his name, he was always on her mind.

At night she had lain in her bed staring at the orange-brown linen of her four poster bed and letting her hands wander over her body, thinking about how it was when he had touched her. Eventually her fingers had begun exploring deeper imagining how it might go on with him but the pleasure she had found inspired only a deeper longing. Verona knew her doings were a sin but she was not caring anymore, the desire he kindled in her was stronger than her beliefs.

Now as she was running out of time she felt like doing something radical. Should she try to sneak into his quarters and await him naked or dressed up just like one of those loose women? Somehow that did not seem to be the answer. Worse was that she felt those odd cramps coming which would signal her coming bleeding. Which would hopefully keep her husband from visiting her at all. The thought of spending her last night here with her husband made her grab a vase and smash it on the floor. The pieces clattered over the stone floor and Verona felt a little satisfaction. Her breath came deeper and more regular. About a minute later someone knocked at her door. She closed her open morning frock with one hand tightly around her waist, before she said loudly: "Come in."

It was one of the servant girls who had heard the noise and wanted to take care of the little accident. Verona nodded silently new anger and jealousy washed over her. Her mouth formed an ugly line as she observed the girl taking care of the shards. Still unbound by marriage and close to him for so much longer then she ever would be.

"So how long have you been in the Count's service?" the young woman inquired.

"Just for this season, My Lady," the young thing said, sounding quite depressed.

Verona's expression softened. "You are just hired for one season?"

The girl nodded. "The Count always closes the palace, except for a few of the guards who remain. My mother was lucky enough to be re-hired and get me a place as well."

"Where does he reside when the season is over?"

"I do not know that, My Lady, " the little girl rose and being finished she asked: "Can I leave now or do you need anything?"

"No, you can go," she said.

Verona wondered as to why the Count would release all the servants, there was always the change that something came up and then he would need someone to cook or to clean the place, warm up the fireplaces. Then again there had been something demonic about him, who knew where he really went once the summer was over. Still it seemed more as if her imagination had fooled her which was no doubt the result of her knowing that all of this was unholy and wrong.

Her head hanging she walked to the bed. Maybe at least she would find some restful sleep and resist the temptation for tonight. Just as she stepped on the runner in front of her four poster, Verona screamed in pain as something pierced her foot balm. Hopping on one foot she sat down on the bed and hold her foot biting her lower lip until the pain lessened.

She could not see anything beside the blood which run over her feet and dripped down from it. The shard was smaller as she had thought. With trembling finger's she pulled the white little bastard out of her and placed it on her night desk. Then she wanted to look for some linen to take care of the wound as she heard another knock. Expecting the servant girl she asked her to step inside, but to her horror it was her husband.

"Verona, what should people think if you bid them in dressed like this?" he asked in his usual calm, but educational voice.

"I'm sorry, I hurt myself," the young woman replied automatically.

"Where?" he said and stepped closer.

Verona pointed at her feet with wet eyes. "I stepped into a shard."

"Well that does not look so bad," her husband said after a short look and pulled out his handkerchief. Applying it as a bandage he thought this problem was solved and began to undress.

"Pavel, I…" she began, but he interrupted.

"Dear, you don't need to help me, just stay in bed," he said kindly.

"But I don't feel well at all," Verona said.

"I'm sure that will change in a moment," he smiled almost gently.

Trembling, Verona slowly rolled to the other half of her bed. But it took not long for him to follow her. His hand touched her ankle and moved upwards under her nightgown. "It is really about time that you give me an heir", he said sincerely.

He did not even cared about undressing her or caressing her body at all.

"No," she said, but he just laughed.

Further efforts of her to interfere with his routine were only commented with a "Don't be childish". Resigning she lay back her head way over the side of her bed. His hands touched her intimate parts roughly and not nearly as passionate as she had experienced it with the Count. She closed her eyes a moment before she decided to look at the floor. Then she saw the bulky night dish standing halfway under the bed.

Before she knew what she was doing she lifted it up with one hand and brought it down on Pavel's head. He groaned and she let herself glide away and fall off the bed. Ignoring the pain she rolled on her knees away from the bed for a few feet until she looked what her still moaning husband was doing.

Holding a wound on his forehead that was bleeding with one hand. He needed a few moments to recover from the blow, but after that he just looked at her and yelled with anger she had never heard from him before.

"You ungrateful whore, that is what I get for my patience with you?" He hold out his bloody hand. "For all the money I let you spend, my money? I should have known that beauty as yours could only mean you are a child of the devil."

With that he got up from the bed and Verona staggered up seconds later heading for the door in a sudden rush of panic. Pavel was normally not as fast as his much younger wife, but with her foot being wounded, she was slowed down immensely. Shortly before the door he was so close behind her that was able to grab the end of her long, black hair. Without hesitation he pulled her back with a quick side movement.

Loosing her balance as she stepped on the ground with her bad foot, she hit the floor. New pain flashed through her as she hit the front of the bed with her knee. Warm blood flowed over her dress but her eyes caught sight of her husband's clothing. "Stop whining, disobedient wrench", he said, annoyed with her groaning.

Crawling toward her husband's belt, he finally stepped closer and twisted her around. Pavel tore her nightgown revealing her breasts and soon the rest of her milk-white body. It was actually the first time that he had seen her front completely naked. This gave her even further strength as her arms finally had reached the belt. This had been shared only between her and the Count, how could he dare to touch her breasts?

After a few more movements of her hand she was able to grab the hilt of the stiletto Pavel carried around all the time. Screaming like maniac she stabbed him right in the throat with the long, small blade. He croaked and blood washed over her clothing. It came out in little splashes but Verona's anger unloaded itself even further. "Bastard!"

She pushed him on his back and kneeling between his spread legs, she continued to stab him. It was only a few minutes after that the door opened and one of her husband's friends rushed into the room. A moment he stared in shock, then he screamed: "You murderous witch, you killed him."

And he created a racket that brought the whole wing down on her. Looking at the man that yelled at her, she started to laugh. Verona did not even know why, the whole scene did not seemed real to her. After a few of the servants appeared and a women her mother's age came to her and wrapped her up in her morning gown, which was blood soaked.

"Don't waste your charity on her, wrench!" the man said. "I'll see to it that she gets hanged for this!" 


	3. Humiliation

3. Humiliation

It took some time, before Verona was able to catch up with what was happening around her. After the guards had seized her, she was lead away from the palace, but she had no idea where they were heading to. It was only after sleep had befallen her and the sun woke her up again, that she realised that she was in a small, uncomfortable prison cell. The young woman was freezing and her body was still hurting.

Her foot was slightly swollen and that reminded her that she had to walk in the night. She was still wearing her bloody clothes and not all of it was dry. Her bleeding had started and her behind was wet from it. Maybe not only of blood, but the smell in here was anyway to strong to tell. Her knee was covered with dried hard crimson and Verona dared not to move it too much.

Waiting for a while she was told that there would be a trial, and that she would be judged tomorrow before noon. One of the guards told her that the man who accused her, nobody but her husband's friend, was a very influential man with the city officials. It seemed very likely that she would be executed in three days time on Sunday as part of the usual festivities.

The young woman still could not understand how it all had happened, but she blamed herself and her sinful lusting for it. Had she not been so vain as to expect something from her husband, at least she had something and now she was lost. With all her strength she fought thoughts about the unholy Count and the saddening fact that she would never see or touch him again.

Even thoughts about what might have happened if she had not given Pavel the child he wanted, she tried to cast aside. Because it was not right for her to think evil about her husband. Especially since she had killed him. Still he had gotten so mad, it was hard not to think that he might have thrown or sold her away. If not her life maybe it was still possible to save her soul.

Praying and not denying what she had done she faced her trial and was, as such, a repentant sinner judged to be beheaded. Which was of course very relieving since it would mean there was a chance that she might be buried afterwards and not left for the birds. On the morning of her execution she confessed all her sins to the priest who listened calmly as she told him about her longings and how she had been tempted. He chided her, hold a long speech about unchaste women and how weak and lowly the whole of womanhood was.

His words disturbed her deeply, since it seemed almost that no matter what she would have done things would have bound to end this way. She could barely stand on her wounded foot, but did her best as a woman came to bring her a simple white dress. The gown she would die in. Crying she dressed herself. There was so much blood on her old clothing and she realised that she would loose much more in less than an hour. Her hand stroked her throat.

Despite the wound on her knee she bent down and prayed that through some miracle she was spared and that if HE was to save her HE would not regret it. But there was no hope in sight. The sky was dark and cloudy even though it was close to midday. Verona was lead to a wagon and bound on a long stake which was placed at the centre of it. In this fashion she was brought through the streets to the marketplace.

On their way people threw things at her, bad words, rotten fruits, dirt. She was really scared and wished all of them a horrible deaths themselves. Verona knew it was not a thought that helped her with her redemption, but maybe she was already lost - probably right from the beginning as the priest had told her earlier. He might not have put it that way, but she could not help feeling that this was what he meant.

They lead her up the scaffold and looking behind her at the grim guards, the pleased and excited crowd, and the priest with his hard face Verona realised that she did not feel guilty about her husband's death. Even whilst she did all that praying and thinking, she did not really regret killing him. It might have been the wrong thing to do, but still she thought what would have happened if she had not used the knife and she smiled. At least this way it was over quickly - that was what she tried to tell herself.

But behind her graceful and proud face, she was trembling and fighting to keep her control. She was not about to let them see that she was terrified. Only the man that was about to bind her hands together was noticing the slight shaking of her fingers but just at that moment the whole of the market was paralysed by a terrible shriek. The man who had wanted to read her sentence crumbled the writing together and everyone was turning and searching for the source.

The resulting silence gave the crowded place an even scarier atmosphere. Verona's hands were still unbound since the men had gathered around her and looked into all directions their backs towards her. The announcer cleared his throat and as he hit the first syllable he was interrupted by a new set of unholy growls and shrieks. Then panic turned the whole marketplace into chaos. A winged demon that looked as if hell had spit it out this very moment rose above the buildings that surrounded the marketplace.

Now the screams of the peasants that started running in all directions just like chicken in a henhouse after the fox had jumped into their midst. The brave men who had guarded the prisoner jumped from the construction to the ground and tried to get away. Even the priest started to flee as the hell-beast swiped down towards their direction. The clergyman was not nearly fast enough. He had taken five steps down the crude stairs as one of the huge claws from the demon closed around his throat.

Verona was also shocked but for an entirely different reason. She had prayed for a miracle and seeing who or better what had answered her pleas left her unable to move an inch. Seconds after the priest the other arm of the creature took her by the waist before carrying both of the upwards in the sky. Suddenly the creature made a sound as if laughing and looking towards the priest, she realised that the claw had nearly separated the head from the shoulders.

Finally the weight and the continued pressure let the body rip away from the head and it fell down splashing right into the grounds in front of the huge cathedral. Feeling even more sicker with every second Verona finally fainted and only woke up as she realised that she was placed carefully on the ground. Dreading to look to her side, she was unable to stop herself from doing so. Only it was not the hideous beast she had expected that stood by her side.

"You?" She asked breathless.

Count Vladislaus Dragulia was looking down at her. Even in this dark forest, where he had carried her, she could see his smile and the soft nod. Seeking support with the rock behind her she back up and stared at him. He was studying her reactions and seemed quite pleased.

"You are the devil," Verona stated a few minutes later.

Now he laughed whole heartily and said finally: "That would be to much honour, I'm more like one of his blessed sons."

The young widow could hardly bear looking at the handsome face in front of her, but this revelation made her stagger back even further. Only the slight shake of his head made her stop.

"No, I assure you, dare run away from me and I would be forced to hunt you down and you would not like that," the Count told her.

Verona believed every word. Slowly she took his outstretched hand. Her frightened gaze went up to look at his face as she felt his fingers under her chin. He drew her closer and wrapped her in his travelling coat before lifting her up. As he walked with her through the dark woods, Verona made her self ask where he was taking her. He only told her that he had enough places where they could safely spent some time together.

For the moment being he just carried her to a road where a spacious carriage made of the finest oak was waiting. The four brown horses seemed nervous as they approached and the coach driver had to calm them down. Another servant opened the door for them and gallantly Dracula let her down on one of the soft benches.

"Driver, take us home," he ordered. Quickly the door was closed, the servants took their places. The horses were set in motion and the passenger cabin was shaking mildly as the Count took a blanket of the other bench and wrapped her up in it. As he tried to conceal her nearly ice-cold feet she let out a gasp of pain.

Looking for the source, Vladislaus saw the wound which was small to begin with, but festering. "I think you are lucky, the wound is only slightly infected."

"It was not like anyone would have cared whether I would die of blood poisoning ...", she answered looking tired by the whole ordeal.

The vampire looked a bit worried at the young woman. He felt she might be coming up with a fever. Mortals where so feeble. They called him monster, when the only thing he had been doing was following orders, and treated one of their own in this disgracing manner. Even enjoying it and yet called him evil, when he was showing how little those Christian vows of chastity were worth. Not that he wasn't evil or couldn't be cruel, but the Count was well aware and proud of it.

Normally he would have been amused by so much hypocrisy if Verona had not been in such a dreadful state. He had not planned on her actually killing her husband in such an obvious manner and certainly not doing it so fast.

"I admire you taking things into your hands, but I think you went a bit over the edge with it," Vladislaus told her.

"You think I planned on killing him?" She shook her head.

"The thought had crossed my mind," the Count answered her.

Verona sighed, she wished she had the energy to explain, but the exhaustion and the fear that he might not understand or being interested at all in her reasons kept her quite. There was so much she wanted to know, despite being afraid of the answers; but the continuous rocking of the carriage as it rushed over the uneven road seemed to make her even more sleepy. The young woman managed to state her thanks, but fell asleep before she could think of a way to express even one of her questions.

The vampire watched her nod off and was glad that she could find some rest. Soon they would be at his estate up north. It was not large but he had it all for himself with the nearest village far enough so nobody there knew about the house and close enough for him to fly by for a snack. The woman could use a hot bath, not just for cleaning, but even more for becoming warm again.

Not that he wasn't already thinking about turning her, but he hesitated. It was not the way he had planned things to go and the damage done seemed to be reparable with a little bit of care. Dracula wondered if he should have gone right away to the cell, but thought it wasn't necessary. Especially since he had liked idea of the scenery and the big audience. It gave him time to send a few more employees to his estate, but it also left the Verona longer sitting in the cold with her dirty and far to thin clothing. Then again those few hours weren't that big a deal.

It concerned him more to find out who had brought this matter to the attention of the police. Who ever it was, would pay and that was certainly something he could teach Verona to enjoy. Viewed under that light, the event had it's positive sites. Tarek, the vampire extending his ears for him, would probably report to him the next night before dawn. Servant vampires were useful but weak and so vulnerable to sunlight. Not that it did not hurt him, but he was strong enough to heal the effects and thus appear human in daylight. After all there was only one thing that could destroy him and he had control over it.

Then the ride became bumpier as they turned on the small street leading from the main street through the forest to his house. Verona was halfway torn out of her sleep as was roughly shaken. It wasn't far anyway and he picked her up, letting her rest on his shoulders. Normally he wasn't so chivalrous but it had been a long time since he had been in such a strange situation. He tormented quite a lot of women, but very seldom with physical torture. And they usually weren't in such a dreadful condition. So naturally all he wanted right now was for her to get back on her fee, after this whole action was no fun as long as she wasn't in full spirit.

As the they pulled through the gate a few minutes later and the carriage stopped. Vladislaus did not waste much time but brought her with quick strides into the warm interior. As requested the staff including the addition he had send here from his summer palace, appeared to greet them. He ordered the two females, mother and daughter to prepare a hot bath and take care of Verona.

Both seemed a bit shocked, probably because they had seen her right after the murder, which as he was told, had been quite bloody. Then they hurried to do their work, while he told the others to go back to their posts and brought Verona to the guestroom which was already set up for her. Halfway on the stairs she woke again and decided to stay that way when he let her down on the covers of her bed.

"Where are we?" she asked looking around curious.

"Where they will never find you," Dracula told her with a sinister tone.

Tired or not Verona caught it and eyed him with a disappointed look, as he sat down on the bed beside her. A question, that had been in her mind, slowly found its way to her lips.

"So," she began, "this - winged demon ... that was you, was it?"

Vladislaus smiled: "Oh yes, that was I."

The girl was everything but thrilled by those news and wondered if she really wanted to ask the Count anything else. A knock on the door was heard and one of the female servants entered the room with two water buckets filled with steaming hot water.

"It seems your bath is almost ready," he said. "I think I leave you now and return when you are in a more appealing state."

Verona bit slightly into her lower lip. She had thought about his motives for rescuing her, for seducing her and then leaving her burning with desire. She was not really believing he did it for her benefit, but hearing him speak in such manner was painful. The young woman wanted to be more than just wax in his hands, but whom was she kidding? He was some sort of demon and he did not even denied it. And she was in his power. Not that she had a place to go, if she could.

Still there was this dreadful feeling when she saw him leave. The young woman could not believe that she was so lost to all good, that she was indeed lusting after a someone favoured by the devil himself. Sighing she turned her attention to the woman which was pouring the water into her bathtub. Verona realised that it was the same girl she had asked about the count at his summer palace. The girl must know about her murdering her husband.

"Do you need some assistance, my lady?" the girl asked politely.

"A little maybe," she replied.

The servant girl put the buckets aside and approached the bed. She was gentle and Verona could not notice anything different about her behaviour. There was a strange silence, but then the servants seldom talked without being spoken, too. Only those who knew that their master required some friendly or comforting words or the latest news dared to. So what was the murdering widow to do. Ask the girl what she thought about her crime. Explaining herself to the girl barely younger than she was? Would the girl speak her mind or would she just politely evade a straight answer? If there was just someone she could talk to - someone normal.

Without a word spoken the servant helped her into the tub and waited with a friendly enough expression. The bath was indeed a blessing for Verona's cold and hurting body. The first moment was a bit painful, but the relief followed swiftly. The heat went into her body and warmed her already tingling extremities. The young widow felt better and asked the girl to leave her alone for a few minutes.

It was not that she wanted to be alone, but she felt uncomfortable with her around always wondering what the servant girl was thinking. About all things she had been trained to be graceful an example to others, never to show distress or pain to anyone - not to strangers and not to her family. Verona had felt so secure behind this, she was not vain about her looks, but had always strived to have an orderly appearance suited for a woman of her status.

Now nothing of it was left. Humiliated in public, hurting for everyone to see, stripped of her status the dark-haired woman sat in her bathing water and cried again. If she only new what was going to happen to her. 


	4. Reparations

A/N: Not beta-read would like one though. Read through it myself several times, hope it is acceptable. Had this lying around a while and only got to the last bits today.

* * *

Closing her puffy eyes, Verona tried to focus just on the hot water her body was immersed in. It was not easy for her to calm down her troubled mind, but the sensation this bathing session gave her was quite distracting. She splashed a bit of warm water on her face, washing away the tears. Even if it would take some time for her to stand again on her feet without feeling the pain from her slightly infected wound Verona would do her best to keep up appearances. The young woman knew it was the only thing that would keep her sane.

A few minutes later, her face already felt the temperature difference between the cool air in the room and still warm water in the tub, the older woman came back to check upon her.

"My lady, shall I take a look at your wound now?" she inquired.

"Yes, that would be nice," Verona shyly replied.

The servant woman had a kind look to her. Unlike Verona she was a dumpy woman, nearly a head shorter with a round face. The widow wondered if the other servant girl was her only child or if the broad hips were a result of giving birth to many children. Lifting her wounded foot out of the water, the older woman immediately supported it gently and lifted a light she was carrying closer as she examined the wound.

"Oh, yes, we should apply some ointment to that, it will take some days before you can walk properly, but I don't think that any lasting damage has been done."

Relieved Verona nodded. "Thanks, hmm."

"Stana, my Lady. And my oldest daughter is called Irana. Whenever you need something, just call out or use the bell."

Verona nodded, but there was something else that she needed to say to the other woman.

"I wanted to thank you for being so kind to me, when anyone else wasn't."

The servant woman smiled, but it was also obvious that she felt embarrassed about where this conversation was going. "Think nothing of it, my Lady."

But the young woman could not forget it that easily. She had killed her husband and all this woman had thought about was to calm her down and clean her up. Of course the guards had taken her away quickly and then there was nothing more Stana could have done for her, but very few would have even bothered to say anything to her.

"I'll think I better leave the tub, before the water gets any colder."

Stana helped her to climb out of the tub and then into a robe. Then she also supported her all the way back to her bed, so Verona did not had to put so much weight on her bad foot. The bed was almost to soft to sit on, Verona sank into the soft mattress the smooth but cold satin covers reaching up to her hips.

While the older servant woman turned to stir the fire a bit, Irana re-entered the room. On her left arm she carried a collection of warm underclothing. Also with the left hand she balanced a heated coal pan. She put the clothing with a shy smile besides Verona on the bed before placing the warm pan under the covers.

"The bed will be warm in no time", she said.

"Fine, love, now help the young mistress with the hair," Stana ordered her daughter.

After her days in the cold, damp prison and all the hateful and unkind remarks of the guards and the noise and obscenities from the other criminals and drunks this situation here seemed almost unreal. Stana was really good in her role as head servant. Kindly but firm she handled the situation, directing everything like it was a stage play.

Reaching into her daughter's apron she pulled out a metal box that contained some ointment, then she just knelt down and applied it to the now cleaned wound. Afterwards she put on some woollen knee-highs on her. As soon as the daughter had done all she could to dry the lower part of her hair which had become wet in the tub, the both helped her to get into the rest of the clothes until apart from the actual dressed she was properly dressed.

"Would you like something to eat?" the young girl asked her.

"I am hungry - but I'm also exhausted." Verona replied fearing that they might suggest that she put on a dress and go downstairs to the dining room as it was proper.

"That's okay - my daughter will bring you up some warm soup - then you can get a bit of rest."

It was pitch black outside when Verona woke up after her light meal. It had been a while since she felt all warm and comfortable, even at the Count's summer palace she had felt restless and uneasy. Carefully wrapping the robe around her, she left the bed and walked towards the window. She could not see much of anything with the moon covered by clouds. Only the wind blowing through the dimly illuminated trees suggested that somewhere outside was a huge forest.

But all that did not really mattered to Verona. She was thinking about the Count. She wondered where he was and what he was doing and whether he was thinking about her. Not that seeing the Count in his monstrous form had not had an effect on her, but for now Verona had not really accepted what lurked underneath his handsome countenance. After their first dance she had called him a demon and worse, still, despite this obviously magical abilities she had not really believed that he was actually something inhuman.

She was aware enough to be scared about still being so attracted to him. Even though she had felt the leathery surface of his demonic site and clearly remembered the grotesque face in vivid detail and some where in the back of her mind knew that it was him, Verona longed for his touch. More than anything she wished for this last. Never before she had hungered for anything so much but to feel once more what she had felt that night in the Count's arms.

At first, alone and afraid in that cell, she had tried to free her mind of those lustful urges deeming them the source of her ruin. But as true as that might be, standing here in this remote villa Verona began to see life in a new light. Or to be more precise in the absence of light.

All her life she had been told what a serious flaw being a woman was. That she need to be more chaste and more modest in anything she did as opposed to a man if she hoped to be redeemed. It seemed perverse to her that in her quick trial her husband had been praised to no end by the judge. It was not that she believed what she did was right, but she also felt what he tried to do to her was wrong. She never once had dared to denied him her body why could he not once respect her wishes?

"Unable to sleep?"

She suddenly heard the Count's voice. Startled for a moment, Verona realised that he was close by. As she turned she saw only silhouettes in her room.

"Count?" Verona whispered.

"Who else, did you expect, my dear?"

"I wish you stopped playing these games with me", she replied.

The Count laughed softly in the dark. Verona walked towards the noise.

"You are pretty serious about all of this," he mocked her.

This time his voice came from a different direction. Turning with even greater frustration, Verona decided that she had no intention to participate in this fiend's games.

"Well, if you actually want me, you know where to find me."

With those words she stepped forward her hand looking for the end of her bed. As soon as she made out its location she flung aside the cover and climbed into it. Vladislaus had remained silent and thus she was all the more startled when her hand met his as she reached for her cover.

"I admire your boldness. Maybe if you tell me what you like me to do to you ..." his voice trailed off but now she could see him in the dim light of the moon that fell through the windows. His playful tone and the way his face in the semi dark of the room seemed so scary to her made her think that if she had any sense this would be where she tried to get away.

Dracula even gave her that opportunity as he got up after a while and said: "I think you are probably not ready."

But she knew she was, the thought of him walking away from her again was too unbearable.

"I tell you want I want. I want you to stop playing games with me. I want you to pay close and personal attention to me." Verona took a deep breath as she realised he was turning back to her. "I want you to kiss me everywhere, especially in the most inappropriate ways imaginable. I want you to rub your hands all over my body."

She felt even bolder as Dracula came closer and closer till his face was just inches from hers. His hands hovering over her thinly clad breasts. Then he grabbed her cover and threw it off the bed. As she continued to reveal her most intimate fantasies to him, she felt a new confidence in her.

"I want you to finish what you started when we first met. Then I want you to teach me how to sin in every way you know a woman and a man can."

Dracula kissed her and she felt his hands slipping in between the laces of her night gown. His cool hands made her feel as if her skin was almost burning. After he finally broke off, Verona took a deep breath. "And don't you dare leave me before."

"I would not dream of it."

The Count had already been intrigued with her but now he was the one enthralled. He could clearly see all her inner demons, the shame about her awakened lust and the guilt taught to her by parents, society and the church. Yet, despite all of this, she managed to voice her desires so clearly and beckoning, that he simply had to obey her.

Removing his cape with his free hand, he climbed on top of her. Stroking her breasts, he finally pulled back to undo the laces of her night gown with both hands. The fabric parted and a narrow V appeared down to her navel. He felt her shudder as he began kissing her breasts, drawing the sides of her gown apart further revealing them fully.

Verona had wonderful breasts, as he kissed them and sucked on her nipples he could feel the blood pumping beneath the skin. He had to restrain his hunger, as he spend some time paying careful attention to them. Eventually he began removing more of her nightgown. He shifted from a top position to being on her side.

With ease did his fingernails cut through the gown, which then parted revealing everything to him. Still busy letting his tongue wander around her left nipple his hand moved between her legs. A whimper escaped her lips that made him realize how little attention had been paid to her in the past. If she had received any at all.

Cold fingers or not, he knew just how to use them. As hard as it was for him to hold back, he enjoyed watching her body react so intensely. Watch her blood rush through her body, feel her breath coming harder and deeper. The sweat sounds she made.

Eventually, he shifted again, still using his fingers he let his lips kiss by kiss trail down. Then it was his tongue teasing her. Feeling her so aroused, with so much blood gathered in one place, made his teeth ache. He needed a moment to adjust against the pain of them pressing against his gums, ready to slide out.

For now, he did not want that, right now he kissed her and began gently sucking at her. His reward were intense moans and groans that came from her. When she came he did not bother to stop. He felt her hands clutch the sheets. She was fighting so hard not to yell, to completely surrender to what she was feeling.

It was not before she had experienced her third orgasm that she eventually let out a long, loud that sounded almost like she was screaming "Oh, god."

He rose to his knees. Her still trembling, panting body pressed against them. His hand touched her cheek, the other pressed over her heart.

"That was heavenly."

"My dear, that was nothing."


End file.
